


The best kisser I know, huh?

by mariamegale



Series: Call me 'sweetheart', please? [1]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Babe is incredibly subby, Being In a Relationship and Not Realising It, Dom/sub Undertones, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, One-Shot, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:48:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23788102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariamegale/pseuds/mariamegale
Summary: “Do you really think you’re the best kisser I know, Gene?”Eugene leans back so he can stare properly at Babe. Babe, meanwhile, resolves himself to look at the film he can’t understand like everything is normal and his heart isn’t pounding a thousand beats a minute for some reason.“Babe.” Eugene’s voice is flat, but he doesn’t respond immediately. They’re both quiet for a second, but then Eugene slowly scoots back to his spot. “I’m pretty confident I’m up there, yeah.”“I’m not even sure how that would be decided,” he says, voice coming out slightly airy. Babe can’t tell if something’s happened to the air or if it’s the alcohol, or he’s just getting tired, but he feels like his skin is tingling with warmth.The hand in his hair has been still for a while, but he can feel Eugene’s face move against his scalp, pressing his lips into the side of Babe’s head for a second. “Well, there is one way.”
Relationships: Babe Heffron/Eugene Roe
Series: Call me 'sweetheart', please? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722178
Comments: 19
Kudos: 61





	The best kisser I know, huh?

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings in the end notes.
> 
> Why do quarantine homework when you can write smut for the first time in six years instead? 
> 
> I listened exclusively to Janis Joplin's entire discography while writing this, in case you want some snazzy background music. Hope you enjoy!

As the night drags on, Babe feels himself get tired. He finds Eugene on the sofa, listening in on a conversation-slash-argument between Liebgott and Webster, doing a really bad job trying to keep his smile under control. 

Babe catches his eye as he makes his way over, Gene smiling properly and scooting over to make room for Babe.

“What’s up, Edward?” He rolls his eyes as he makes himself comfortable, kicking his legs over the armrest and leaning half his weight on Eugene. The man doesn’t complain, just shifts his weight a little and wriggles one of his arms around Babe.

“I was stuck in an argument with George and Skip on which one of us is the best kisser. Yeah, I deserve that,” he says as Eugene just sighs deeply and shakes his head, “but I got caught up in it, okay?”

“Is this your way of saying you made out with Muck?” Babe wrinkles his nose.

“No, why the fuck would I do that? Nah, I just said I had to go gather more data. And now I’m here.”

“This your way of saying you’re gonna make out with me?”

Babe blushes, but Eugene only looks amused. He struggles to twist around so he can see Gene’s face properly, and the man grunts uncomfortably as Babe flails around, eventually ending up with his head in Gene’s lap.

“That was not what I was saying!” Babe starts defending himself, and Eugene dons his next-best thousand-yard-stare as he has to sit through a wine-induced rant about ‘jumping to unfair conclusions’ and how ‘a filthy mind is a filthy kind’. 

“Why are you saying I have a filthy mind?” Eugene eventually protests, “You were the one who were—“

They’re interrupted by Webster, looking exhausted and exhilarated at the same time, meaning he looks exactly the same as he always does after any conversation with his boyfriend. “Uh, guys? Sorry if I’m interrupting.”

“Not at all,” Gene says, scooting his lap out from under Babe’s head to loud protests. “Heffron’s just afraid to find out I’m the best kisser he knows. Where’s Joe? You two leaving?”

Webster blinks, looks to where Babe has covered his face with his hands and apparently decides to not get involved. “Uh, yeah. Just wanted to tell you guys bye, first.”

Eugene, always the good host, follows them to the door, trying to gauge whether Liebgott is good-pissed or bad-pissed and thus if someone should check up on them in the morning (by the way he sees Webster crowd him up against the hallway wall as soon as they leave, he assumes that won’t be necessary).

For some reason, David and Joe taking off has become an unspoken finish line for all their parties — a few minutes later Skip, Buck and Penkala take off, and that means Malarkey isn’t far behind, Speirs following the man like a puppy. Toye and George go next, and after that it’s only thirty minutes until Babe shuts the door behind the last of their friends.

In the living room, Eugene is collecting empty bottles and cans in a bag. Babe opens the dishwasher and makes quick work of glasses and a few lone plates — they’ve had the argument about cleaning the night of vs the day after, and Eugene had won out spectacularly, so no words are spoken between them as they put the flat back together. Fifteen minutes later, with two bags of trash by the door and the dishwasher softly humming in the kitchen, Babe can’t understand why he were ever opposed to it. 

He joins Eugene on the sofa, leaning his head on the armrest and resting his feet in Gene’s lap, the other man contentedly enjoying his neat streak being satisfied. It’s only 12:30 am — God, when did they all lose the will to keep going all night? — and Babe doesn’t feel like going to bed just yet. He looks over at his roommate and pokes him with his foot to get his attention.

“Yes, Edward?” Eugene sighs, not entirely unfondly. 

“You wanna head to bed yet, Gene?” 

He gets a headshake in response, “I’m still on hospital time, not tired yet. Why?”

“I’m not tired either, and I was thinking about maybe putting on a movie and finishing off that bottle of whisky Nix left here so he can’t come asking for it tomorrow. Care to join me?” Eugene looks over at Babe’s completely innocent expression with raised eyebrows, smiling nonetheless. “It’s not being an asshole if we’ve told him fifteen times to remember his shit already, and we both suspect Winters is making him do it intentionally anyway.”

“You do have a point there, Heffron. Alright,” he says and stands up with a groan, “but we’re watching on your TV and I’m taking a shower first, because I am not going to wake up both hungover and filthy.”

Babe smiles and gets up as Eugene heads into the bathroom, getting the bottle and two mugs — because fuck having glasses in bed — before going to set his shit up.

———

They both end up showering, because as always Gene makes great points, and after changing into pyjamas in the bathroom he gets back to his room to discover Eugene dragged his own million pillows and duvets into Babe’s bed, and has gotten started on Nix’s whiskey already. 

They put on Amélie, because Eugene loves the accents and Babe loves hearing him repeat random French phrases to point out how he differs, and they quickly get back the buzz they had earlier in the night. 

When they pass the halfway mark, Babe can’t stop giggling as Eugene keeps pointing out inaccuracies in the subtitles, growing more and more frustrated with both the translation and the man beside him not taking his suffering seriously. 

“You are the only person I have ever met who would shout at this movie,” Babe snickers and Eugene shoots him a withering look. “They’re not even that wrong, calm down.”

“I am not shouting,” he hisses and frowns at the screen. “I just wish I had popcorn to throw at your TV because whoever was in charge of this did not do their job properly!”

“You’re from Louisiana, how can you be a French stereotype?” Babe struggles to a sitting position and digs the remote out from underneath the pretty impressive piles of bedclothes they’re buried amongst. “Okay, how about we just turn the subtitles off, yeah? Then you won’t have to wake up the neighbours over fake poetry.” 

“You’re not going to understand anything,” Eugene protests, but Babe has committed to his charitable cause and is scrolling through the menu to turn the bane of his friend’s existence off. 

“Then how about this, my multilingual friend, you’ll just have to translate the important parts for me.” Babe scoots closer to Eugene as if to ensure he’ll hear him better.

“That is not a good idea.”

“Why don’t you say what you really think, Doc.” Babe sighs and takes another drink of whiskey. At some point they discarded the mugs and are now just passing the bottle back and forth. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Prove you can do a better job than the people who actually got paid to do it.”

Eugene, for some unexplainable reason, actually plays along and for a while everything works out pretty well. Babe is free to drink and have the dual noise of accordions and Gene’s low voice lull him into a very deep sense of comfort. 

One thing he didn’t consider, though, was that his drunk mind eventually stops focusing on the words Eugene are saying and more on the voice saying them. During the course of the film they slowly move closer to each other, like they usually do, because Babe loves hugging and he knows Eugene gets little to no human contact outside of him, so he tries to be generous with it. 

That means he ends up with his head on Gene’s shoulder, fingers gently carding through his hair as Eugene’s Cajun accent narrates the movie for him. He’s drunk, surrounded by fluffy soft things and leaning against an objectively beautiful man with an objectively fantastic voice, so Babe really doesn’t think it’s entirely his fault when he starts thinking about other things.

Like the joke Eugene made earlier (which he’d all but forgotten, but suddenly it pops into his mind and refuses to leave), whether he would actually be the best kisser Babe knows, and then that leads to wondering how the hell he’d even figure that out, and then that leads to him getting annoyed at the thought of a panel of strangers making out with his friend. 

Eventually his face must reflect how unfocused he’s become, because Eugene taps him on the head and pulls him out of his thoughts. “Huh?”

“You still with me, Edward?” Gene wonders, both amused and a little annoyed. Babe feels a pang of guilt in his chest. “I don’t mind if you just wanna relax, but then I’d prefer to not wear my vocal chords out.”

“Sorry, Gene,” Babe says, handing the bottle over in apology. His friend takes it thankfully. “My mind just went somewhere, I didn’t mean to zone out.”

“It’s okay,” Eugene says with a whisky-hoarse voice and something jumps in Babe’s chest. “What were you thinking about, anyway?” 

“Uh—“ Babe short-circuits for a second, but then something in him — he will later try to figure out what, but to no avail — tells him _fuck it,_ and he says, “Do you really think you’re the best kisser I know, Gene?”

Eugene seems to completely drop Amélie at this point, leaning back probably only so that he can stare properly at Babe. Babe meanwhile resolves himself to look at the film he can’t understand like everything is normal and his heart isn’t pounding a thousand beats a minute for some reason.

“Babe.” Eugene’s voice is flat, but he doesn’t respond immediately. They’re both quiet for a second, but then Eugene slowly scoots back to his spot. He clears his throat, takes a breath and offers, “I’m pretty confident I’m up there, yeah.”

His voice is oddly neutral, and Babe hums noncommittally. He’s done something, now, he knows, and he wants to see where it takes him. “I’m not even sure how that would be decided,” he says, voice coming out slightly airy. Babe can’t tell if something’s happened to the air, or if it’s the alcohol, or if he’s just getting tired, but he feels like his skin is tingling with warmth.

The hand in his hair has been still for a while, but he can feel Eugene’s face move against his scalp, pressing his lips into the side of Babe’s head for a second. “Well, there is one way.”

Babe moves then, scoots back so he can look up at Eugene and. Okay.

Eugene is watching him carefully. His face is blank, but his eyes are darker than they normally would be and Babe can see his jaw work like it does when Gene is focusing intently on something. He traces his eyes down the line of Eugene’s jaw, sees his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“Yeah?” He asks, his eyes flickering from Eugene’s lips back up to his eyes.

“Yeah,” Gene whispers, running the hand that’s not behind Babe’s neck across his stomach to his arm and then down to his wrist. Babe can feel himself shiver at the touch, annoyed that both his own hands are kind of trapped — one under Gene’s cool fingers, one kind of sandwiched between them in a way that isn’t awkward, but would be if he tried to wriggle it out. 

He doesn’t know what he’d do with his hands even if he did have them at his own disposal. He still isn’t entirely sure what they’re doing, only that they’re both breathing very slowly and Babe’s skin feels electric where it’s touching Eugene’s. 

Eugene, who parts his lips like he was going to say something but stops himself, and Babe can’t say when he started looking at them again. He looks back up at — _his roommate, his friend, his Louisianan Cajun doctor-in-training_ — Eugene’s eyes, and he holds his gaze, and it feels like a challenge.

Babe takes a hitching breath and Eugene is moving. His fingers slot into Babe’s and presses his hand into the mattress as he leans over Babe, smoothly resting his weight on the elbow behind Babe’s head so that there’s still air between their bodies, but closing the gap between their mouths.

He closes his eyes just before their lips meet, warm and dry but soft as they kiss once, twice, chaste and gentle. Then Babe realises he has his left hand back, still between them but with room to move. He pushes it up, over Eugene’s chest and his shoulder to the side of his neck, thumbing over the thick muscle of Gene’s jaw. 

Eugene presses his lips to the side of his mouth without hurry, making Babe turn his head in chase of them and then he receives an open-mouthed kiss that he gladly reciprocates. Gene’s mouth tastes sweet and like whisky and his lips are soft against Babe’s. The hand he has on Eugene’s jaw moves to the back of his neck, pulling them closer together. 

He twitches his right hand and Eugene lets it go, pressing his fingers into Babe’s hip instead.

This leaves Babe with the difficult decision of what to now do with his right hand, and he moves it from Eugene’s shoulder to his hair to around his waist, where it stays when Eugene bites down softly on Babe’s lower lip and then sucks on it for a moment, like an apology. 

Babe’s entire body trembles, the hand on Eugene’s waist tightening its hold, and it’s apparently enough to make the other man lose his balance. He doesn’t exactly fall on top of Babe, more like a slow press-together of their hips and stomachs, but it’s just unexpected enough to make them both pause for a second.

Eugene pulls back, staring at Babe with wide eyes, and if he though they looked dark before he didn’t know what dark eyes looked like. Babe swallows around nothing, moves his shaking hand — _why is it shaking? Pull yourself together, Edward, Jesus_ — to Eugene’s cheek, fingertips tracing the line of his cheekbones and the line around his mouth. 

Eugene turns to press a soft kiss to the pads of Babe’s fingertips and Babe smiles. “So,” he says with a hoarse voice, “yeah, you’re… Up there, huh?”

“Your call to make, Heffron,” Eugene answers quietly against his fingers, eyes closed, suddenly looking very tired. 

“Gene? Hey, what’s the matter?” He uses his hand to turn Eugene’s head, not enjoying the twisting feeling that something is wrong. Oh God, what did he just do? What is wrong with him? He doesn’t know exactly where he fucked up, where Eugene thinks he fucked up, but he’s pretty sure he did, at one point, fuck up. 

Babe starts to panic and of course Eugene notices the second he looks up. The hand that used to be on his hip comes up beside Babe’s shoulder, letting Eugene push himself up more. For one awful second Babe thinks he’s going to go away, but he just puts enough distance between them to actually, like, have a conversation.

And oh no, he wants that even less. Can’t they just go back to watching a movie, or drinking, or kissing, or—

“Edward, what do you want?” He instinctively frowns.

“Seriously? You’re gonna ‘Edward’ me now?” Eugene rolls his eyes with an exasperated smile.

“Babe,” he says and nails Babe with a hard look. “What do you want?”

Fuck, he doesn’t know how to answer that. In the back of his mind he remembers someone once saying this is one of those questions you always want to ask and not be asked, and he gets their point. Shit. Babe feels like he’s balancing on the edge of something, and he’s not sure which side of the ledge he wants to fall down.

“I— I want—“ He can’t think, he keeps looking between Eugene’s eyes hoping he will manage to communicate his emotions through looks alone. “I want…” His eyes go to Gene’s lips, and fuck it, the man has earned it for putting him in this position. “I don’t know what the fuck I want, but I don’t want you to go.”

Eugene does nothing for two seconds, giving Babe plenty of time to sob hysterically inside his own mind, and then he bows his neck and presses his mouth to Babe’s neck.

“I don’t want to go, either.” Oh thank fuck. He could cry. He probably will cry later. He’ll take a bath and figure it out. 

“So stay,” he says, lifting Gene’s head up so he can finally get their lips back together. “Stay, and the rest can go fuck itself,” he murmurs between kisses.

“What are you talking about?” Eugene says with a smile, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth, down the underside of his jaw, making Babe tilt his head up on reflex. 

“Fuck, I don’t know, when do I ever know,” he rambles, because Gene’s hot breath is coasting over the shell of his ear and it’s sending shivers down his spine. “Fuck, Eugene—“

The other man responds by nipping at Babe’s earlobe with his teeth, and from there on Babe’s thought process kinda scrambles. 

He’s never considered backs to be especially attractive, but seeing the curve of Eugene’s shoulderblades as he bends to press kisses down the line of Babe’s throat is sending warm flashes through him. Babe breaths through his mouth as the neckline of his shirt is pulled to the side so Eugene can get his lips and teeth on the soft skin of his shoulder muscles.

His fingers start carding through Eugene’s short, black hair, enjoying the feeling of it against the side of his neck. Babe pulls him back up, needing to kiss him, and Eugene obliges him immediately.

It’s like before, except with an edge of franticness to it, Babe thinking less about where his arms are and more on the exact feeling of Eugene’s lips and the taste of his tongue. Eugene finally pulls his arm out from under Babe’s head, plants his knees on either side of Babe’s hips and leans back just enough to be able to run his hands under the soft fabric of his sleep shirt. 

Babe gladly cooperates with getting it pulled over his head, wants to feel Gene’s hands on him, running up his sides and over his shoulders, gasping into Gene’s mouth when he pinches one of his nipples gently.

“You’re so fucking pretty, Edward,” Eugene tells him, blunt nails pressing into the sides of his ribcage as he presses another line of kisses down the other side of Babe’s throat.

Babe moans, hands going to Gene’s hips, enjoying the thrill of feeling the other man’s hips roll down on his own. His pyjama pants and Eugene’s sweats do little to nothing to hide their growing erections, and he wants to take full advantage.

He drags his fingers along the outside of Eugene’s thighs and then up along the inside of them, from his knees to where his legs meet his hips, thumbs pressing into the crease there. He then pulls on Eugene’s shirt, forces his mouth up from Babe’s collarbone to pull the thing off, Gene taking the opportunity to shuffle his knees further down the mattress. 

Babe makes a grumbling noise when Eugene’s hips lift from his own, and earns a huff of laughter and a soft bite to the flesh over his heart in response. 

“Don’t fuss,” Eugene mutters into his skin, pressing kisses to Babe’s sternum. “You’re being impatient.”

Never quite haven gotten the hang of talking in bed — _he’s in bed with Eugene, fuck, shit_ — Babe just looks down at him with a pout, cradling Gene’s head in his hands. The man shows little pity, just continues nipping his way down Babe’s stomach, but he suddenly can’t find it in himself to care very much. 

“Gene—“ he whispers as Gene slides down his body, chest starting to press into Babe’s very interested dick. He has to close his eyes to stop his head from swimming too much, but is still acutely aware of exactly where Eugene’s lips are pressing against the hem of his pyjamas. 

“What is it, Edward?” Eugene asks, leaning on one of his elbows and using his other hand to press against the hard curve of Babe’s erection. The smooth, even pressure, the sound of his name rolling of Eugene’s tongue, the way he knows he’s being watched, makes him buck his hips and press one of his hands over his eyes. 

“I— Fuck—“ Eugene just keeps slowly stroking his palm over the soft fabric, Babe arching his back to press further into it. The hand he hasn’t got pushing into his own face, which has just been kind of gracelessly flailing between the bed and Eugene’s head, is taken and he focuses on the steadiness of Gene’s fingers like a tether. 

Lips are pressed against his index, middle and ring fingers in a kiss at the same time as fingers curl around his dick through his pants and Babe has to force himself to breathe, otherwise he’d probably forget. 

“What do you want?” Eugene murmurs against his fingertips and Babe breaks out into a mildly hysterical laugh because Jesus Christ, if he couldn’t answer that before, how the hell is he supposed to now? 

He keeps rutting into Gene’s hand and apparently that’s answer enough, because Eugene’s lips leave his fingers and instead he feels the warmth of a breath on the head of his dick. Eugene’s lips drag over the fabric like a hint, making Babe curse under his breath and push his hand up to his forehead so he can look down.

Gene’s eyes catch his immediately like he’s been watching Babe the whole time, and he probably has, before he sticks his tongue out to lick an obscenely slow trail up the length of Babe’s dick. He can only imagine the trace it must leave on his pyjamas, and he has to look up at the ceiling for a while to calm his racing heart.

“It’s okay, _mon cher_ ,” Eugene says, which is just a blatant lie, pressing a kiss just above the hem of Babe’s pants. He moves his hand but only to carefully drag his fingers over the lining of the garment, head raised properly and a sudden seriousness in his voice. “Yes?” 

Babe nods, swallows, meets the inquiring gaze of his friend and responds, “yeah.” Eugene smiles at him, so sweet Babe can’t help but almost giggle, and then his trousers are pulled down, Gene making quick work of tossing them to the floor and crawling back up Babe’s legs. 

He trembles as a kiss is placed into the nook of his thigh, closing his eyes to turn off a bit of his own self-consciousness. Eugene wastes no time licking his hand and carefully wrapping it around Babe’s erection, his mind properly short-circuiting when one hot breath is the only warning he gets and then a pair of wet lips are on him.

The first licks of Eugene’s tongue against his cock is without a doubt the best thing Babe has felt in his life — even that time after Skip, Penk and Malarkey made him go ice bathing and he was standing in a shower feeling his legs return to him pales in comparison. Gene works his tongue around the head of Babe’s dick, spreading his wet saliva before he gives one long pump of his hand.

Babe is cursing again, cutting off into a moan when those soft lips wrap around him and slowly take him in. Gene’s tongue is pressed against the underside of his dick, creating almost-friction amidst the wet heat that has Babe turning his head and moaning loudly into the mass of pillows he’s sprawled over. 

Eugene sucks dick like he does most things — intensely focused and with a lot of attention to detail. He moves his lips and hand together at a steady pace, slowly increasing Babe’s pace of breath in an almost relaxed way. Then at one point he pulls off with a noise that makes Babe quiver and stills his fingers around the base, giving what Babe would almost call kitten licks around the rim of his glans, and it’s wonderful and torturous at the same time. 

Of course Gene picks up on it, teases him with barely-there touches of his tongue and softly stroking his balls until Babe’s entire vocabulary is reduced to the word ‘fuck’ and various whining noises. Alternating between those two different approaches, Babe slowly forgets what the world is outside of this ridiculous bed and the boy between his thighs. 

He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, fingers rubbing through his own hair in an attempt to ground himself. “Gene,” He moans, trying to get the man’s attention. It only earns him a low hum in response that vibrates through his whole cock and Babe thinks he’s going to come right then and there, eyes tearing up from the intensity of it. “Gene, Gene—“ 

He moves his hands to Eugene’s shoulders and Eugene pulls away, staring up at him with dark eyes, mouth fucked red and lips glistening with spit or precome or, probably, a mixture of the two. Babe takes a shaky breath and just looks through the wetness in his eyes, trying to remember how to form sentences when Eugene groans. 

“Jesus Christ, Heffron,” He says as he climbs up to press their mouths together. His voice is hoarse and Babe moans, tilting his head into the kiss. He wraps his arms around Eugene, clings on like he needs a tether. “ _Tu vas me faire mourir_ ,” Gene mumbles into the kiss and Babe pulls back to look at him with confused eyes.

“What?” he whispers, but is immediately distracted because Eugene’s hips press into his and the feeling of the fabric of Eugene’s sweatpants against his sensitive dick makes his back arch involuntarily. He can’t decide whether he wants to shy away or grind upwards like his goddamned life depended on it, but then Gene’s whole lower body rocks against him in a fluid motion that should be illegal and he fucking whimpers at the feeling of it.

“I said you’re going to be the fucking death of me, Babe,” Eugene says in a strained voice. Babe wriggles to press a hand against Gene’s chest, to feel the low rumble of his voice as he works on catching his breath. He lets himself be kissed, both of them just rutting slowly while Babe calms down a couple of degrees. 

Then he realises Eugene’s arms are trembling, from what he can’t tell, but he knows he can’t have that. With a gentle push he rolls them over, until Eugene is the one with his back on their pretty ruined pillow nest and Babe is leaning over him. 

He lays one of his hands on the soft skin at the bottom of Gene’s abdomen, just to feel the muscles there work, and kisses him through the sigh he makes. 

“Gene,” he mumbles, refusing to stop kissing the man, “Please, can I— I want—“

Eugene nods, but Babe continues. He wants to hear him say it, would actually really love if he made him beg for it, plead and— _okay there boy, reel yourself in a little_ — so he moves on top of Gene, splaying both of his hands over his hips. He presses small kisses to the corner of Eugene’s mouth, his cheek, the muscle of his jaw, under his ear, voice barely a whisper, lips moving against the soft skin behind Gene’s earlobe.

“Please, Gene, I— I want to suck you off,” he revels in the way Eugene’s grip on his hips starts to hurt with how hard he’s holding on, “please, can I?” He continues pressing kisses against Gene’s throat and on his pulse, mumbling soft pleadings into his skin while Eugene seemingly needs to remember how to speak.

_“Mon Dieu, aidez-moi_ ,” he eventually gets out, pulling Babe by the hair so he can press a kiss that’s barely even a kiss, more like a hard press of mouths, against his lips. Babe murmurs out one last _“can I, Eugene?”_ and finally gets a response when Eugene nods. “Yeah, yes, you may.” 

Then a hand is on Babe’s shoulder, pushing him down, and he goes willingly. He gets Eugene’s sweats off as quick as he can without risking to hurt either of them, and only gives himself a second to take in the look on Gene’s face before he licks a wet stripe up his dick and swallows down on the length of it.

Babe is a nervous person, so he’s worked out a system on how to handle having sex without having to go hide under something until his mind stops freaking out, and it mainly involves committing hard enough to not leave himself any room for doubt. 

This also means he’s learned how to deepthroat with impressive efficiency, something he’s secretly very proud of. 

Eugene chokes out a long string of French as Babe works his way down Gene’s dick, settling on repeating what Babe recognises as exclusively curse words when the head of his cock presses past the back of Babe’s throat.

He focuses on what he’s doing for a while, closing his eyes to the absolute music that is Eugene Roe rambling, voice hoarse from sex and breath heavy. His hands are by his head, knuckles white from the iron grip he has on the pillows.

“Jesus, Edward,” he groans when Babe pulls back to give himself some time to breathe properly. He forces back a smile, meeting Eugene’s eyes with mirth. 

“What have I said about calling me Edward?” To drive his point home he goes back down on Gene, keeping eye contact as long as he dares, closing his eyes when the man groans in a low voice above him.

“ _Mon Dieu_ , Babe, you’re— _Mon chou, chérie—_ “ Babe moans as well as he can, pulling back just in time to not choke when Eugene’s hips twitch. Gene immediately sits up a little, significantly more alert for a second. “I’m sorry, shit, I—“ 

Babe presses a kiss to Eugene’s thigh with a hushing sound before moving up his body to press a wet kiss on his mouth. “Don’t apologise,” he murmurs, taking one of Gene’s hands in his own. “It’s okay.” 

They kiss for a few seconds, until Eugene relaxes again. Then Babe crawls back down, stroking his hand over Eugene’s knuckles. He presses a kiss to the base of Gene’s dick while gently placing his hand on the back of Babe’s head. 

He can see the muscles in Eugene’s stomach work, a thrill going through the bottom of his own abdomen at the way Gene’s eyes look pitch black. “It’s okay,” he whispers again, swirling his tongue around the head of Gene’s dick before wrapping his lips back around him. 

Eugene cards his fingers through Babe’s hair for a few seconds, giving him time to work up a good amount of saliva before carefully pushing his head down, like he’s checking. Babe ignores his burning cheeks and only blinks slowly instead of closing his eyes. He holds their gazes locked until Eugene lets out a shaky breath and stops holding his hips still, rutting carefully into Babe’s mouth.

Babe doesn’t worry for a second, and isn’t that a lovely feeling, trusting Eugene to stay within reasonable boundaries and listening to what Babe’s body tells him. It takes a few shallow thrusts for Gene to relax into it, but Babe can tell when he does because he starts talking again. 

“ _Merde_ , Babe, sweetie, God,” he mumbles, voice both strained and fond, “you’re doing so well, you feel so good, fuck, _god_ , you’re so good,” rambling a mixture of praise and profanity, his grip on the hair at the back of Babe’s head making sure he stays exactly where Gene wants him.

_Shit_ , he’s never been this turned on in his life. Babe moves his head according to the pressure of Eugene’s hand, deep enough to feel him press at the back of his throat before being pulled back up. He starts moaning when the movement of Eugene’s hips pushes slightly into his throat, revelling in the reinvigorated praise that earns him.

It doesn’t take too long before he feels Eugene tug on his hair cautiously. 

“ _Minou_ , sweetheart—“ Babe groans and Eugene shivers. “I’m— Do you—“ Babe lets himself get pulled off gently, panting and blinking away the reflexive wetness in his eyes. 

“Please,” He whispers hoarsely. “I want to, can I, please—“

Eugene groans, nodding frantically and lets Babe go back down. He hasn’t really used his hands for much except to keep his balance, but now he presses one gently into Eugene’s perineum, massaging him slowly as Eugene sighs. 

Closing his eyes, he takes a breath and presses on until his lips are around the absolute base of Gene’s dick, eyebrows furrowing in concentration. He can only manage this without coughing about half of the time. He has never wanted to succeed in something so desperately before in his life, though, so he holds Eugene’s hips down with one arm and slowly swallows, throat contracting around the hard length of his cock.

Gene’s hips twitch, but he can feel the other man tensing up as he does it, trying to stay still. “Oh fuck, _bordel de merde_ , Jesus Christ, Babe, please, goddamn—“

Babe would moan if he could, Eugene’s broken praises going straight to his dick, but instead he swallows again, and again, and feels Gene’s entire body tense up, moaning Babe’s name and about a dozen different kinds of nicknames as he shivers his way through his orgasm. 

Babe sucks him through it, pulling away with one last swallow when Eugene’s legs start to twitch, not having much time to do anything before he’s hauled up into a kiss. He obliges, pressing his hips down into Eugene’s. He’s ignored his own dick for a while, but he’s so hard it hurts and desperate enough to be happy just rutting into the mattress at this point. 

Babe could cry when Eugene spits in his hand — which maybe shouldn’t be hot, but he’s past the point of caring — and wraps it around his aching cock. He lets out a desperate whine and thankfully lets Eugene roll him over onto his back, all notions of shame forgotten as he ruts into Gene’s tight fist. 

“God, you’re perfect,” Eugene mumbles into his lips. “Are you ready to come, Babe?” He nods frantically, feeling the muscles behind his stomach starting to pull, and he’d be willing to do just about anything to keep Eugene’s hands on him. “I can’t hear you, sweetie.”

Babe thinks he really is going to cry, at that, convinced this is how he dies — at some ungodly hour in a bed with a ridiculous amount of pillows, with a Cajun man whispering filth into his ear. It takes a few tries to actually form words, but eventually he manages to moan out “Yes, please, God, I want to, please let me—“

“Look at me.” It’s a direct command, he can’t not, and the second he meets Eugene’s eyes, wide and dark and looking like he wants to fucking tie Babe down and _keep_ him, he loses it, his last shred of self-control going out the window as he comes hard enough to see white.

Fuck, it’s the best orgasm of his life, and he’s not surprised when it takes him a minute to come back to himself.

When he does, he’s in Eugene’s arms, a duvet pulled up around them and a hand softly patting his hair. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers, too out of it to care that his voice sounds like he’s been screaming for hours. 

“Hey there, _minou_ , welcome back,” Eugene mumbles into his hair. “I could say the same, where the fuck did you learn to do that?”

Babe snorts. “Do you really want to know?” Eugene huffs back and Babe giggles. 

He finds that once he starts laughing, he can’t stop, all the different kinds of tired he is catching up on him all at once. He buries his face in Eugene’s equally shaking chest and they laugh like two lunatics for a while. 

Once he manages to calm down, his attention is caught by Eugene bumping his forehead with his nose. 

“Hey, are you— I mean, was this okay?” 

Babe looks up, and Eugene is biting the inside of his lip in a not-quite-alright expression. Babe feels his expression soften and reaches up to smooth out the crease between Eugene’s eyebrows with a still-shivering finger. 

“It was fantastic. Are you okay?” 

Eugene studies him for a second before nodding and hugging Babe closer. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m real good.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah. Just want to hold you, if it’s okay.”

Babe thinks they should probably talk, but he’s suddenly very tired, and comfortable, and completely fucked out, so he just presses a kiss to Eugene’s throat, wraps his arms around the other man and lets himself be lulled to sleep by the rhythm of Gene’s heartbeat. 

They can talk in the morning. They have time.

**Author's Note:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS: 
> 
> \- Dom/sub undertones without pre-negotiation -- Nothing goes wrong, no one is hurt, they're both very happy with the outcome and don't get into anything heavier than some mild begging and an enthusiastic blowjob, but still.
> 
> \- Intoxicated sex. Babe and Gene are the hosts of a party and then drink about a quarter of a bottle of whisky between them. Neither of them is especially drunk, but Babe is described at somewhat under the influence at one point. No sex happens non- or dub-consensually. 
> 
> \- Alcohol is mentioned and drinking is depicted.
> 
> \- Babe briefly remembers taking an ice bath in the past. Not described in detail.
> 
> I think that's it, please do point out if there is anything you think I should add!
> 
> * * *
> 
> ** Author's note: **
> 
> you can pry Incredibly Subby Babe out of my cold dead hands. the only picture I have of any kind of follow-up to this is Spina sitting down in front of Babe while he’s having lunch and just asking “so, how long you been fucking Eugene?” to which Babe just chokes on his drink and snorts chocolate milk all over the table out of his nose
> 
> Also, fun fact: I don’t know if it’s a common one but I have managed that dick-swallow move exactly three times in my life and it has in my experience been incredibly efficient, but a fucking nightmare on the vocal chords. Can recommend if you’re into that kinda thing.
> 
> [Come say hi on tumblr](https://mariamegale.tumblr.com/) if you want! <3 (pardon the incredibly pretentious theme it's from 2015 and i havent gotten around to change it since)


End file.
